


felix culpa (fortunate fault)

by silverfoxflower



Series: Captain Stark & Mr. Rogers [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Anal Fingering, Face-Fucking, Jealousy, M/M, Rough Sex, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Tony had fucked in his new body, it was with a USO girl five years his senior. It was his first time not being scrawny, first sexual encounter outside of back-alley blowjobs and hotel room visits with strange men in bars. First time penetrating. </p><p>It was <i>bad</i>. He didn’t judge his strength and left a dime-sized bruise on the girl’s breast. She had laughed, of course, been a sport as she ruffled his hair. “At least it’s somewhere easy to cover,” she had said, “But they sure weren’t kidding about that super strength of yours, were they? Wowee.” He had still felt like shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	felix culpa (fortunate fault)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little PWP sequel to festina lente, as requested by nick-furys-bazooka on tumblr! This occurs between the events of festina lente (which deals with the aftermath of The Avengers) and Iron Man 3.

“Whatever happened to not kissing and telling?” Steve asked with a laugh, shaking off the excess condensation on the champagne bottle and pouring it into the one, two glasses he held in his other hand. 

“That’s so 1940’s I’m beginning to think you’re trying to steal my shtick. Come _on_ , this is the age of snapthingy and sexing via texts. Get with the program,” Tony grinned, sitting up in bed to accept the champagne flute, the sheets a tangle around his waist. “Scout’s honor none of this leaves this room.” 

“You’re not a boy scout,” Steve says, unable to help the smile breaking over his face as he climbs into bed next to Tony’s warmth. 

“Captain America’s honor, then,” Tony salutes Steve with two fingers as he drinks deeply of his champagne. “So, Iron Butt, spill.” 

“Okay,” Steve said with a sigh, “Other than college, the only real one-night-stand I’ve had was in … I think 1999? 1998? I was in Switzerland, for a tech conference. Then dragged to the afterparty since it was New Years’.” 

“Nobody wants to spend New Years’ alone,” Tony said sagely, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s. “Not even the geeks.” 

“Her name was Lorraine,” Steve said, looking thoughtfully into space, “She was a biologist. She showed me her work. It was _fascinating_ stuff. Regeneration of plants via genetic reprogramming of neural tissue.” He finished his champagne with a far-way smile that got on Tony’s nerves. Though he’d long accepted that Steve’s real mistress was _science_ , that didn’t mean that Tony wanted science to come with a sweet face and a smokin’ body.

“You lost me at … all of that,” Tony finished his champagne and set it on the counter. “Did you two actually bump uglies, or did your two big brains just do all the work for you?” 

“Well first I was going to talk about how _smart_ she was, then move onto how _pretty_ she was,” Steve ticked off his fingers one by one, smiling wide as he was tackled by Tony and pinned into the bed. His empty champagne flute bounced on the carpeted floor.

“Now I think you just wanna make me jealous,” Tony growled, rolling his hips. Through the thin cotton sheet separating them, he could feel the stirring hardness of Steve’s cock, twitching to respond to his own. 

Steve moaned, his pink lips curving into a shiny ‘o’, a sight more decadent than champagne. “I’m beginning to think,” his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “That I want you to make you show me.” 

At that, Tony hesitated, releasing his hold on Steve’s wrists. There were pink marks on them – no bruises, but. He tried to cover his discomfort with a smirk, but Steve already saw it, and brushed the back of his hand against Tony’s beard. 

“Tony, you gotta stop overthinking this and underestimating me. I wanna take all you can dish out. I can handle it.” 

“Says the man out of his tin can,” Tony scowled, but he didn’t release Steve’s wrists, rubbing over Steve’s pulse with his thumb. 

The first time Tony had fucked in his new body, it was with a USO girl five years his senior. It was his first time not being scrawny, first sexual encounter outside of back-alley blowjobs and hotel room visits with strange men in bars. First time penetrating. 

It was _bad_. He didn’t judge his strength and left a dime-sized bruise on the girl’s breast. She had laughed, of course, been a sport as she ruffled his hair. “At least it’s somewhere easy to cover,” she had said, “But they sure weren’t kidding about that super strength of yours, were they? Wowee.” He had still felt like shit. 

With Steve he’d tried to be careful, and moreover, tried not to make it _seem_ like he’d been being careful, but there you go. Smartest mind of this generation taking apart Tony’s head and putting it back together again like one of his gadgets. If it had been anyone else, that would’ve pissed Tony off. He _hated_ to be dissected. 

But all bets were off, as usual, when it came to Steve. Tony would do anything for Steve. 

“You sure about this?” Tony asked, “A one-way trip on the Star Spangled Super Special?” 

Steve burst out laughing, his quaking abs vibrating against Tony’s erection, “So that’s your strategy? Turn me off with bad jokes?” He smiled, a little soft, a little sad in Tony’s direction. “You actually don’t have to, you know. I’m definitely not here to push you past your comfort zone. It’s just,” he glanced away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “With everything going on in my head, it would be nice to escape. For … just a bit.” 

Tony knew Steve wasn’t just talking about the mechanical, the endless gears and levers and specs chugging along in his inventor’s brain. Steve was talking about New York. The dreams that Tony had to wake him from, sometimes, when Steve would twitch and mutter things and grind his teeth. When afterwards, Steve would cling to him and shudder like he’d felt so cold. Yeah, of everything, Tony understood that feeling. 

“Hey,” he said, pressing a firm kiss to Steve’s lips. “I love you, kid. Just tell me to stop and I will, on a dime.” 

Steve didn’t reply, too busy moaning up to the kiss, his breaths coming faster as Tony once again tightened his hold on Steve’s wrists. Under the sheet, Steve’s cock perked to full mast as he gave a token struggle against Tony’s hold. Tony kept it iron clad, tearing his wet mouth from Steve’s and _attacking_ Steve’s neck with hungry, sucking kisses. 

Steve moaned, high and surprised when Tony _bit down_ , his legs opening under Tony’s hips. 

“Fuck me,” he forced out, with a voice like broken glass. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony breathed, too amped up to be clever. With a few thrown elbows and some whispered directions, he manhandled Steve onto his front, and there, _there_ was nirvana. The wide, rippling expanse of Steve’s back and the swell of his ass, humping back against Tony’s cock. 

“I want you to put your cock in me, and fuck me like you mean it,” Steve said, because he was a little shit that knew how worked up Tony got when he opened his dirty mouth. Before he started dating Tony, Steve was this chaste little choir boy - at least that’s what Tony liked to believe. Now, though, he was smirking at Tony over his shoulder daring him to put his money where his mouth was and _God,_

Tony really was in love.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Tony said, pulling Steve’s arms behind his back and holding both of his wrists with one hand. He had to concentrate to apply just the _right_ kind of pressure, something to make Steve _feel_ it with no permanent damage. And Steve responded beautifully, giving such a sweet struggle as he panted into the bedsheets. Tony made sure to demonstrate how little effort it took him to debilitate Steve, whistling as he took his sweet time rummaging for the lube. 

“Don’t need fingers,” Steve whined, pink from neck to hairline. 

“You’ll take what I want you to take,” Tony said, licking at the curve of Steve’s ear, blood-hot under his tongue. And this was really a powerplay, see, because Steve _hated_ fingering, hated how trembly and vulnerable he got with it, how sensitive his prostate was, how it broke him open. Hated how much he loved it, really. 

Plus, it had been more than a week since Steve last bottomed, pushed Tony down on the couch one night and rode him to the steps of heaven. Damned shame, Tony thought, looking lovingly at the curve of Steve’s ass. He’d been such a slut for Steve’s cock that he’d mournfully ignored this specimen. 

Uncapping the lube and squeezing it on his fingers one-handedly was an exercise in dexterity. Tony was glad that Steve had his back to him and couldn’t see how Tony squeezed out way too much, _drenching_ his fingers in the slippery, strawberry-scented liquid. 

It had its uses though. Tony dragged his fingers down the small of Steve’s back, mesmerized by the shiny trails he left behind. The artist in him wanted to paint landscapes on the breadth of Steve’s shoulders, intricate patterns on the cut of his hipbone and sink his name, deep and permanent, on the soft inside of his thigh. 

Steve groaned, pulling ineffectually at Tony’s hold on his wrists as Tony slid his fingers in the cleft of Steve’s ass. Despite his pulsing erection, Tony took his sweet time between Steve’s legs, first sliding his fingers to press against Steve’s taint, then swirling a slick thumb against the puckered edges of Steve’s hole. 

His thumb dipped in, earning a shaky breath from Steve. 

“If I let you go, will you fight?” Tony asked, genuinely curious on how Steve wanted this night to play out. He watched Steve’s shoulders stiffen, his tussled blonde head press into the mattress, then, beauty: Steve’s entire body went _limp_. “Good,” Tony said, feeling almost reverent as he bent down and pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder as he released his wrists. There were pink marks blooming to purple inking Steve’s fair skin. Steve snaked his hands up the bed to lever his head out of the pillows, breathing deeply. 

It was one part headtrip and two parts humbling, having this gorgeous man pinned between Tony’s knees. All of Tony’s life, he had been a victim of circumstance, tugged this way and that by his father’s expectations, his own sickly body. Even during the war, when he’d been a respected leader of men, Tony always felt that his position was perilous. One slip-up, one mistake, and everyone would see the man behind the shield – a fraud. 

But this man, this _good_ man would offer himself to Tony completely? Tony knew that the control he welded right now was given out of such trust, that even if he _did_ fuck up, Steve would still forgive him, still love him. And that was the thought that made everything okay. 

Tony tightened his knees, forcing Steve’s thighs together and his ass out as Tony eased one, then two fingers into Steve’s tight hole. It was sweet, sweet heat all the way up to his knuckle. He could feel every clench and ripple as Steve shuddered beneath him, fingers clawing at the bedsheets, trying his damndest not to make a noise. 

By three fingers, Steve was open-mouthed, panting against the pillow, crying out as Tony worked over his prostate, every jab earning another wail and _clench_. Knees pressed tight, pink hole opening under Tony’s fingers as he fucked himself backwards, Steve was a _sight_. 

“Please, please,” Steve slurred, rubbing his face against the mattress.

“Yeah, bring yourself off for me,” Tony panted, stroking himself as he fingered Steve. 

He wondered if Steve’s shoulders still ached from his earlier rough handling as he pressed one to the mattress, making it hold his weight as he slid his right hand between his legs and began stripping his cock frantically, in time to Tony’s arrhythmic rubs at his prostate. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Steve cried as he came, ass clenching down around Tony’s fingers, and there was a sympathetic jolt in Tony’s cock as he watched Steve shoot into the tostled bedsheets. Tony worked him through it, knuckling firmly against his prostate until Steve started flinching away, whimpering under his breath. 

In the aftermath, Steve looked so languid and satisfied, sprawled in the bed like a portrait of hedonism. He barely even stirred as Tony tugged his fingers from Steve’s ass and cleaned them off with a wet wipe. 

“And they call me the selfish one,” Tony said with fond amusement as he crawled up the bed to collapse against Steve’s shoulder. His hand went to his cock, intending to jerk himself off and wait till Steve’s non-superhuman refractory period could catch up, but Steve surprised him with a soft touch at his wrist.

“Can I?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and a little bit wet, his mouth looking bruised. His expression was still stubborn as hell, though, Tony’s rich little pretty boy. 

“You don’t have to, but _please_ ,” Tony said, easing onto his back as Steve softly kissed his way down Tony’s body, little smitten pecks along his chest, abs, hipbones, then, as if he’s been _starving_ for it, fitted his mouth around Tony’s cock. 

Tony hissed, arching a little at the sensation of slick and heat around his neglected erection. Normally, Steve was very focused about his blowjobs, but today he was almost dreamy with it, licking up and down the shaft and suckling at the head with satisfied little hums and it took 110% of Tony’s self-control not to jack up his hips into that teasing heat. 

“Steve,” Tony panted, “Sweetheart. If you wanna kill me there are kinder ways.” 

Steve gave a last, lingering smooch to Tony’s cockhead before honest-to-god fluttering his eyelashes and sinking his mouth down, _down_ around Tony’s shaft. With a groan, Tony fisted the bedsheets. He panted as he looked at Steve, such a pretty picture with his pink lips split wide and eyes wide and trusting as he looked at Tony.

Tony wanted to ask, _are you sure_ , but it was not like he could expect a response, so he just cradled Steve’s head and gave an aborted little thrust upwards. Steve took him like a pro, swallowing around his cock all sloppy and wet. 

With a moan, Tony began fucking his cock into Steve’s mouth, at first gingerly, then with desperate enthusiasm, moaning encouragement and nonsensical love words as Steve’s tongue indolently dragged along the bottom of his cock. Once or twice he went too far, hit the back of Steve’s throat and felt him choke, throat spasming. When Tony tried to stop, however, Steve would claw at his hips and make urgent, muffled sounds until Tony began thrusting again, muttering about spoiled, rich brats and their stubborn natures. 

“Steve,” Tony hissed, feeling his sack draw up tight and hard against Steve’s stubbled chin, “Gonna-“ 

It was Steve’s stare that sent him over the edge, those heartbreaking baby blues ringed by wet lashes, looking at Tony, just _wrecked_ and begging for it. With a shallow gasp, Tony came, the orgasm _sucked_ out of him by Steve’s hot, sinful mouth, which drank it in with greedy swallows.

Later, Tony would pin Steve against the wall, supporting his entire weight and fucking him till he came all over himself and begged for more. 

Later, Tony would open Steve’s ass and eat him out, all sloppy and shameless as Steve rode back on his tongue and bit his knuckles bloody. 

Later, Tony would leave bruises and bite marks all over Steve’s body, rug burns on his knees, a vivid purple hickey _just_ high enough on his neck that Steve would be pulling up his collar all day, remembering the sweet, painful suck of Tony’s mouth. 

But now, Tony hauled Steve up on the bed and mashed their mouths together, chasing the taste of himself on Steve’s tongue. They kissed until they were just panting into each other’s mouths, groping tiredly at the rumpled coverlet. 

“So, verdict.” Tony said, pillowed against Steve’s shoulder. Because even when he was playing toppiest top ever to top, he still liked being the little spoon. “I’m better than that Lorraine chick, right? Please. Stroke _all_ of my ego.” 

Steve laughed, “I don’t know, Tony. She could regrow plant stamens. It’s really up in the air.” 

“I’ll show _you_ who can regrow plant stamens,” Tony growled, hand diving under the sheet amidst Steve’s laughing protests about _refractory periods, Tony, Jesus!_.


End file.
